Download My New eBook Today!

In olden times, before the internet, I published a questionable little magazine (I use the term loosely) called The West Virginia Surf Report. It was filled with absurd articles and straight-up silliness, very similar to the stuff I’m now writing for Mockable. Like this, and this, and this.

It was all “material,” completely and quite obviously fabricated. I was influenced heavily by the National Lampoon, and was trying to duplicate the tone and brilliance of their writers. Unsuccessfully, I might add.

When I moved to California, in 1996, I started hanging out with Mark Maynard, who, along with his girlfriend (now wife) Linette, published the legendary zine, Crimewave U.S.A. We had a lot of ridiculous fun out there, pulling stunts (like wearing sandwich boards outside NBC studios — offering to make their sitcoms funny), and engaging in all manner of stupidity.

Mark asked me to write an article for the next issue of his magazine, but I didn’t think my stuff was a good fit for Crimewave. His zine was all about personal stories, autobiographical humor, and that sort of thing. I just made up silly bullshit; I’d never written about myself, had never even considered such a thing.

But he kept pushing me, and I decided to give it a shot.

After some frantic contemplation, I decided I might be able to get some mileage out of my time spent working at a convenience store in Dunbar, WV, back during the mid-1980s, and went to work on it.

Not wanting to embarrass myself in front of the entire zine community (Crimewave was very popular), I spent an inordinate amount of time on it. I sweated bullets over that article, and tried to make it as good as my talents would allow.

And it actually worked. I was pleased with the results, as were Mark and Linette, and there was a lot of positive feedback from the readers, as well. In fact, that article was better received than anything I’d written before. It was an amazing turn of events.

During that same approximate period I discovered Krista Garcia’s online journal (the word “blog” hadn’t been invented yet), and the idea for TheWVSR.com began to take shape. I’d write about my everyday life, like Krista does, and maybe duplicate the convenience store triumph. And occasionally sprinkle in some silly bullshit, for old time’s sake…

Fast forward to 2009. TheWVSR is still going strong, and I’m wanting to offer a free gift (bribe) to people joining the mailing list. Maybe an eBook of some kind? But what would be the subject of said “book”? I thought about it for a few days, and then it hit me: just go back to the beginning. Why not simply republish the convenience store article that started it all?

It was a good choice, because the piece hasn’t been on the site in a long time. I removed it, because I wanted to include the article in a book project that hasn’t gotten off the ground (yet). Plus, people still occasionally ask me about it, so there’s at least a small amount of interest out there.

So that’s what I’ve done. I renamed the article “A Convenience Story,” and enlisted the help of a graphic designer. And my very first eBook is born. …I’m sorry, I’m getting a little emotional here.

I announced it to the mailing list last night, and it’s available to everyone today. All you have to do is join the list, and you’ll receive download instructions via email. Here’s the form, which is quick and painless.

I hope you enjoy the story. Please let me know.

If you’re so inclined, I’d appreciate a mention of the book on your blog, at Twitter, on Facebook, or wherever. Please send readers to this page, and NOT directly to the download link. Thanks in advance for helping spread the word.

And if you don’t blog, or waste loads and loads of time at social networking sites, feel free to attach the file to an email and fire it off to your friends. I’d be much obliged.

Finally, I’d like to know if you’ve ever worked at a job where the inmates basically ran the asylum? A place where there was rampant theft, violence, and general grabassery — and management had no control over any of it? If so, tell us all about it in the comments.

And that’s all I’ve got for you guys today. I’ll get back to the normal stuff on Monday.

Comments

Sharing news of my good fortune. Rain canceled any hopes of golf. Stopped by the Ye Olde Staughmping Groundes (yea, the bar) and not only savored a few draughts of Golden Elixir, I also supported senior PA citizens by buying a scratch off lottery ticket(s).

So…you paid a buck and won $400…..How is that supporting?? (twist on a fave line from Office Space) Oh, I see the (s)….ok five bucks i’m guessin’. Congrats sir…and I just brought home a twelver of Coors orginal long necks (thank you very much Pagan) and the first two are to you. One for me and since you can’t be here ….I’ll take it from there

I don’t think I’ve ever had a job where the inmates didn’t run the asylum. And, unfortunately, the most fucktarded ones were the ones with the most sway.
As for shenanigans, though, well- one of my first jobs out of school was at a radio station as the late-night deejay. We took quite a few liberties.
– The guy on-air before me usually had a steady parade of tramps coming by, and would try to con me into running the board for him so he could bang them in one of the production studios.
– My friends would come by with booze and we get hammered on-air. I think it made the show funnier, but I was too blitzed to care most times.
– Our morning show co-host came in one Firday night so I could teach her how to run the board. While I was in the production room cutting a commercial before my shift, she came in and used the razor blade we spliced tape with (this was long before digital equipment) to cut a line of coke on the counter.
– We would sail the Sunday morning guy’s gospel records across the lobby to see who could break them into the most pieces.
– The station owner’s son loved to play deejay, so we’d let him go on the air while we borrowed his car to “go to the store”- code for joyrides, including more than one to neighboring states.
– The same guy was on the air, with the mike open, and I went into the booth behind him with a CO2 fire extinguisher and sprayed him with it. It’s amazing the FCC didn’t fine us.
– The FCC did fine us the night Flavor Flav came on my show after a concert and unleashed a torrent of “shit,” “motherfucker,” and “bitches.” He wasn’t pissed or anything, it was just the way he talked.

WTB – I posted part 2 early this morning. Say, somewhere around 4 am and about a half a bottle of scotch so don’t blame me if I screwed it up. It was the scotch speaking, not me. Like now, I’m working on the other half.

When I was in college I had a summer job that was the summer job of all summer jobs. I was a weekend “security guard” at a truck depot. My responsibilities were to (a) refuel the tractor trucks and (b) sweep up the garage floor.

Refueling the tractor trucks was something that people would pay to do. Get in the big rig, fire up that deisel engine, and grind some gears. You haven’t driven until you have driven a big rig. Granted, it was just in the parking lot, but that is the beauty of it. I could perform any maneuver I wanted. No traffic.

Sweeping the garage floor was less satisfying. But it only took an hour or so. After refueling and sweeping, I had the rest of the day to do nothing but earn my pay.

So I began my ritual. Lounge chair, cigars, and beer. After I finished my “work”, I would park my ass in a lounge chair (foldable beach model), drink beer, smoke a stogie or two, and work on my tan. Good times. I had a particularly good tan that year.

One day, the owner stopped by un-announced. Apparently he was not amused by my ritual. But, and this is an amazing but, he did not fire me. Instead, he asked if everything was OK, then left.

Alas, retribution was in store. The next weekend, he stopped by again and informed me that my job had taken on new responsibilities, aka cleaning the restrooms.

It was a tough call, but cleaning truck depot restrooms was not something I was keen on. So I quit. But those few summer weeks that I spent grinding gears and lounging in a parking lot are remembered fondly.

On a side note, in recognition of all of the Scotch Whiskey comments, let me just say this. Congratulations to all of the Surf Reporters that enjoy the mother’s milk. Single malts are fine if you want to overpay for your inebriation, but give me good old JWB. Tastes great and costs less. As a side benefit, there is no requirement to discuss intangible booze characteristics.

Unless of course your drinking that rot gut canadian whiskey. I know I’m gonna here it from this but I’m gonna go above the PG rating I usually maintain. Don’t blame me though, I’m just polishing off the other half of a bottle of Glenlivet 12. If scotch tasted like pussy, every guy and even some women would drop the beers and become connoisseurs. Remember, scotch speaking, not me.

The water heater has finally been replaced! To the casual observer, the stifled moans and gasps coming from my bedroom might have been mistaken for the sounds of hanky panky, but alas, it was just me reluctantly taking an ice-cold shower these past few days. (Until now, it never occurred to me that the sounds were so similar.) No one getting any action here. The master bedroom remains as dull and wearisome as ever. (yawn) My only comfort is that I get to take a long, hot shower tonight and sleep in crisp, clean sheets.

I’ve decided to give up on Marlene Carter’s in favor of Stouffer’s. They have the best microwave chicken pot pie in the biz. And their salisbury steak and macaroni and cheese is fantastic. They even instruct you NOT to pierce the plastic before heating, and that’s refreshing. Big servings too, unlike a lot of Marlene’s dinners.

Shiny Rod you must try :Johnnie Walker Green Label its blended only from single malts which include its four signature malts Talisker, Cragganmore, Linkwood, and Caol Ila. Sorta like the best of 4 excellent malts in one Bottle:)

Ok…I’ll go…years ago (’88) I worked in a VW speciality parts store. Off road and steeet stuff too. Everything V’dub….gauges, brakes, mufflers, fenders…..everything. Well …Scott spent all day on the phone…line two. Nice kid all in all and… and I always want to say…”for christ sake Scott…you’re gay….get over it and move on for fucks sake”…but never did. The other guy…aka fat slob…hey, I don’t care about anybody’s body weight…honest….it’s the slob part that bugged me…stunk! Same pair of jeans( and I’m guessing underwear) day after day and I swear he would piss them whenever the guy needed to. Really…the fuck smelled like piss…all the time. I never stood near the guy (cool dude all in all) least someone think me as the pants pisser. All that for five bucks an hour…when I said I was leaving they offered me five fifty.

@ $5.50 a what? No way man. Not and have to put up with pee dude. I was making $18 an hour in ’88 as a EP Technician for Xerox. Pissy time for me because I was going through a separation/divorce. Won’t make that mistake again. She’s gonna have to be like Ani-ko (check the blog) before I get married again.

When I was 17, fresh out of HS, my best friend at the time and I worked for the summer at a WV State Park as housekeepers. 17 year old houskeepers, what a joke. I’ll never forget the first time I knocked on a door and said, “Housekeeping.” And if no one responded, we’d walk right in. Oops, sorry. We supplied our familes with eough towels and sheets to last for several years. The linen room was the best place for naps, all of that semi-dirty laundry in a pile on the floor, it was perfect. We were told we couldn’t have the TV on while we worked. Right. Did you know that when people puke in motel rooms they just leave it for housekeeping? Yeah, I didn’t know that either. Did you know that when newlyweds leave their leftover champagne that housekeepers take it? It was still chilled, an underage drinker’s dream. To this day, I can still make the hell out of a bed.

Eh! I pay $350 for Glennfiddich 30, Now if your talking about the 200th Anniversary, I rather buy a wedding ring and get married. That shit sells at 3500 for 750ml although I have found a dealer who can get it for me at $1300. Remember, I’m single, eh no woman to tell me no, well not yet at least.

Well..as a Las Vegas showroom lead trumpet player…I was making a lot more than eighteen bucks an hour back then….not that I’m pissing on paychecks here…Plus, I was inside a scene no one could imagine. Me,…back stage in the dressing room. Hi , how’s it going to the star, and they seemed to know I was the lead trumpet player. That’s a very important seat on the band!!…wearing a tux and ready to fire off the first high note of the night. Lead trumpet players are cool guys but they will not be fucked with. There was a huge kafuck musicians strike in Vegas in “87 and a lot of guys (me) scrambled. Tony Scoddwell…monster lead player at the Forntier…turned to his hobby….photography. Me…I live in the mountians, carve wood and fix things for folks that need something. I help folks along their way. In hiking vo-cab…it’s called a “trail angel”…and I am just that whether my paycheck shows it or not.

@ DTO – I know it feels good to help folks out. I fix computers for seniors, rebuild them and shit and even pay for parts out of my own pocket. I’ve got two now that I have to ship out to family members. It will be good to get to some folks who really need them. Most folks don’t know I do this out of my own pocket. Eh, now they do. People, do not send me your broke computers. I buy them from state surplus but I appreciate your sentiment. I had a lot of fun when I was younger and did some wild and crazy shit. You can see that on my blog (I know, another cheesy dig).

SR…thanks for reducing/ equating my life to your fixin’ computers for old folks..Why must you answer everyone’s comment….?……..just sayin’…I like you man…really ….but cripes!!! ….And we all now you have a fucking blog….OK!!!

Perfect job = sleeping during the day on soiled linens, pissing yourself in public, and playing lead trumpet on the weekends. Yes, I’d do that for $5.50 an hour. I’d be getting paid for what I already do anyway, suckers.

Just making some comparisons, I think your doing a great thing. I appreciate your candor. I just like talking about things and if I have a similar story, I don’t mind sharing my experience. i spend a lot of my day communicating things to people and it carries over into my personal life. A character flaw, maybe but I do over do it so thanks again. Thats what friends are for, sometimes to tell you when to shut up.

And I guess I would do it all again for $5.50 an hour. I miss thoes days alot…I miss that part of me alot. My horn is always out (no giggling) and I do keep my chops tune ready, but the big high notes are something you have to hammer every night for 1)strenght…2) accuracy….3) confidence. It was a bitch I tell ya and I practiced and practiced and I earned it and…I was one lucky fellow…

Ok…..sorry….I”m done with that…..Bev’s out of town for a while and I’ve been playing a lot more than usual.

SR…chime away sir…there’s a reason you’ll usually see the trumpet player alone, scowlling in the cornor, and I showed that side a bit ago…

Now…is it too early or too late for a beer!?!?

Happy Monday alll…..I gotta go…almost sun-up and a great part of the day